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Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS 
OF  FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


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QUAINT  CUSTOMS 

OF 

FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


BY 

KATHERINE  LYDIG  BRADY 


NEW  YORK 
1915 


Copyright,  1915 
By  May  Brady  Harriman 


THE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


IN  MEMORY  OF 
MY  MOTHER 

Mat  B.  Harriman* 


June  First,  1915 


I 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS 

OF  FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 

I 

One  day  in  August  I  awoke  to  life,  to  love, 
to  sorrow,  in  an  old  Colonial  house,  the 
summer  home  of  my  family,  made  sacred 
by  the  traditional  visit  of  Washington. 
Here,  during  the  first  few  years,  my  life 
flowed  on  quietly  and  happily,  for  my  par- 
ents watched  over  me  tenderly  and  were 
all  too  anxious  to  fulfill  my  every  wish. 
What  a  beautiful  old  place  our  country 
home  was!  Terraced  gardens,  lovely  old 
trees,  a  famous  historical  stream  flowing 
through  the  midst,  the  two  quaint  gray 
mills  adjoining  the  house  —  I  think  I  see 
them  all  now.  Nowhere  could  such  fruit 
be  found  as  that  from  the  trees  on  those  old 
grounds;  nowhere  nowadays,  it  seems  to 
me,  do  flowers  grow  as  they  used  to  grow  in 
our  gardens  and  greenhouses. 

[  9  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


"I  remember,  I  remember,  how  my  childhood 
flitted  by, 

The  mirth  of  its  December,  the  warmth  of  its 
July!" 

One  day  the  old  mills  caught  fire,  and 
with  them  the  homestead  was  burned  to  the 
ground.  The  ruins  were  for  many  years  an 
attraction  to  our  friends,  who  visited  us  in 
the  roomy  farmhouse  where  our  family  took 
up  its  quarters  after  the  fire.-  The  site  of  our 
old  place  is  to-day  the  Bronx  Zoological 
Park.  The  Lorrilard  estate,  which  adjoined 
ours,  has  now  become  the  Botanical  Gar- 
dens. The  great  DeLancey  pine,  which 
stood  in  front  of  my  old  home,  may  still 
exist;  the  tree  was  celebrated  in  several 
local  poems  and  is  mentioned  in  one  history 
of  New  York.  A  curiosity  still  standing  is 
the  great  Rocking  Stone  in  the  Zoological 
Park.  It  used  to  be  in  front  of  our  garden- 
er's house.  It  consists  of  two  rocks,  placed 
one  upon  the  other,  in  such  a  way  that  the 
upper  stone  rocks  at  a  touch.  I  many  times, 
as  a  child,  used  to  climb  upon  this  stone 
[  10  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


to  be  rocked  gently  to  and  fro  by  our 
gardener. 

The  Bloomingdale  Road  was  in  its  prime 
during  those  years,  and  there  were  many 
large  estates  in  our  neighborhood  which 
were  kept  up  in  fine  style.  The  Thorns, 
Develins,  Conollys,  Donellys  all  had  places 
along  the  Road. 

Once,  as  a  little  girl,  I  dined  at  Colonel 
Thorn's,  and  I  watched  him  with  awe  and 
admiration  as  he  dispensed  the  hospital- 
ities of  the  table  with  his  grand  air.  Colonel 
Thorn's  winter  house  in  West  Sixteenth 
Street  is  now  part  of  the  New  York  Hos- 
pital; and  I  remember  being  there,  also, 
on  one  occasion,  and  still  recollect  the 
grandeur  of  Mrs.  Thorn's  appearance  in 
a  green  velvet  gown  —  with  diamond 
buttons. 

In  winter  I  lived  in  Laight  Street,  which, 
I  suppose,  is  now  almost  an  unknown  lo- 
cality to  the  majority  of  New  Yorkers.  St. 
John's  Chapel  stands  in  Varick  Street  near 
Laight  Street.  How  often  have  I  sat  in  the 
[  11  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 

dear  old  church  and  watched  the  shadow 
of  the  cross  make  its  appearance  in  the 
deep  recess  back  of  the  high  pulpit.  This 
shadow  was  seen  only  at  a  certain  hour  dur- 
ing the  afternoon  service.  Some  claimed 
it  was  cast  by  a  large  gilt  cross  in  front  of  the 
organ  loft;  others  declared  the  appearance 
could  not  be  so  easily  explained;  but  the 
true  solution,  I  am  told,  was  never  satis- 
factorily decided.  The  old  organ  loft  and 
the  queer  high  pulpit  have  both  given  way 
before  the  chancel  choir,  the  choristers,  and 
other  modern  innovations;  the  shadow  of 
the  cross  has  faded  away  also,  to  reappear 
never  again.  It  has  become  a  memory  only; 
its  shadowy  substance  has  gone  with  the  old 
worshipers  and  the  old  days. 

A  great  event  to  us  children  in  those 
same  days  was  the  exit  of  the  minister  from 
the  old-fashioned  reading  desk,  dressed  in 
his  white  robe,  and  his  entrance  a  few  mo- 
ments later  into  the  tall  pulpit  high  above 
our  heads,  attired  in  a  gown  of  black. 
Many  a  fine  sermon  have  I  heard  from  that 
[  12  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


pulpit,  and  much  good  they  might  have 
done  me  if  I  had  only  listened.  Alas!  I  was 
too  often  thinking  of  matters  more  attrac- 
tive to  pay  much  heed  to  the  preachers' 
words.  Bishop  Wainwright,  Dr.  Berrian 
(the  rector),  Dr.  Haight,  Dr.  Higby  are 
some  of  the  clergymen  who  have  had  their 
say  from  that  old  rostrum.  Bishop  Wain- 
wright, so  polished  in  his  style,  his  every 
word  thought  upon  and  weighed  in  the  bal- 
ance, was  yet  not  above  creature  comforts 
entirely;  for  it  was  he  who  told  my  father 
that  if  he  wished  to  sleep  well  he  always  ate 
a  lobster  salad.  Dr.  Berrian  was  a  man  of 
majestic  pose,  who  well  knew  his  world  and 
had  a  leaning  towards  its  faults  and  its 
omissions. 

One  sermon  of  Dr.  Berrian's  I  shall  never 
forget.  It  was  preached  for  Mrs.  Rich- 
mond's House  of  Mercy  in  Mulberry  Street, 
and  his  description  of  a  Magdalene's  funeral 
at  which  he  had  assisted  was  graphic  in  the 
extreme.  Dr.  Higby,  I  remember,  had  a 
charming  voice,  so  sweet,  so  musical,  that 
[  13  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


the  sense  of  his  utterances  was  lost  in  the 
rhythm  of  his  cadences.  It  was  like  listen- 
ing to  some  grand  oratorios  in  which  are  no 
jars,  no  discordant  notes.  No  sweeter  tones 
will  e'er  be  heard  in  heaven.  Dr.  Haight's 
mind  was  set  on  theology  and  the  teachings 
of  the  Church;  he  was  parliamentary  in 
every  detail. 

Bishop  Onderdonk  lived  at  this  time,  an 
old  man,  in  Franklin  Street;  and  I  remem- 
ber how  we  young  folks  looked  with  awe, 
yet  pity,  on  one  who  seemed  to  be  under- 
the  shadow  of  a  black  cloud.  Last  but  not 
least  of  the  men  of  God  whom  I  recall  was 
Dr.  Weston,  a  famous  chaplain  of  the  fa- 
mous Seventeenth  Regiment  and  a  man 
beloved  by  all  who  knew  him.  "  Requiescat 
in  pace!"  I  have  read  somewhere  lately  of 
a  thousand  dollars  left  to  St.  John's  Chapel, 
the  interest  of  which  sum  was  to  furnish 
throughout  the  year  a  weekly  "dole"  of 
bread  to  the  poor.  The  report  stated  that 
the  "dole"  is  still  given. 

St.  John's  Park  was  just  in  front  of  the 
[  14  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


chapel.  It  is  now  the  great  Vanderbilt 
freight  depot,  but  was  then  the  meeting 
ground  for  us  young  folks  —  and  many  a 
lad  would  walk  round  and  round  the  spot, 
waiting  for  his  fair  lady  to  join  him.  What 
rivalries,  what  jealousies  had  birth  within 
the  iron  railings  of  that  inclosure! 

It  was  a  beautiful  park,  with  flowers  and 
green  grass,  a  fountain,  and  a  hundred  trees, 
no  two  alike,  planted  by  a  Frenchman  who 
later  left  New  York  City  in  disgust,  declar- 
ing that  America  was  "a  country  of  a  hun- 
dred religions  and  one  sauce,"  while  France 
was  "a  country  of  a  hundred  sauces  and 
one  religion."  The  park  was  bounded  by 
Varick,  Beach,  Hudson,  and  Laight  streets. 
The  houses  around  the  park  were  some  of 
the  handsomest  in  the  city,  and  as  a  rule 
were  occupied  by  their  owners,  who,  with 
their  families,  were  the  only  ones  who  had 
right  of  entrance  through  the  park  gates. 
The  park  was  about  as  large  as  Union  Square 
and  had  a  gate  at  each  block. 

An  old  colored  man  named  Cisco  was 

[  15  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 

guardian  of  St.  John's  Park,  and  he  was 
the  epitome  of  crossness  and  ill  humor.  He 
made  the  young  people  go  almost  on  their 
knees  for  any  favor,  and  woe  unto  the  un- 
happy one  who  forgot  his  key  to  the  gates 
and  could  produce  no  certificate  of  owner- 
ship. In  the  winter  Cisco  would  flood  over 
the  park  grounds  and  allow  the  water  to 
freeze,  and  then  what  merry  skating  by 
moonlight,  followed  by  the  quiet  return  to 
our  homes  by  way  of  the  basements,  for  fear 
our  parents  would  find  us  out  and  forbid 
further  sport. 

Some  of  the  families  who  lived  around  the 
park  and  in  adjoining  streets  were  the 
Thorns,  who  afterwards  lived  in  Sixteenth 
Street,  the  Schuylers,  Moores,  Pells,  Tillous, 
Minturns,  Wilkes,  Brinckerhoffs,  Troups, 
Kembles,  Hamiltons,  Smedburgs,  Lords, 
Ogdens,  Lydigs,  Bleeckers,  Gibbs,  Bishop 
Wainwright,  and  Dr.  Berrian.  It  has  al- 
ways been  considered  a  patent  of  respecta- 
bility, to  say  the  least,  to  hail  from  this 
quarter  of  the  town. 

[  16  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


There  were  some  rather  curious  charac- 
ters, I  remember,  also  connected  with  this 
quarter.  There  was  an  ancient  colored  wo- 
man who  went  about  with  a  basket  and  in 
it  —  oh!  —  such  delicious  cakes.  All  pa- 
tronized her.  There  was,  besides,  the  fa- 
mous hairdresser  Martelle.  He  was  dark 
of  hue,  was  said  to  hail  from  the  West 
Indies,  and  was  allowed  much  freedom  in 
his  talk  with  the  ladies.  He  was  the  prin- 
cipal coiffeur  of  his  day.  Another  curious 
person  was  an  old  gentlewoman,  who  lived 
upstairs  somewhere  in  Canal  Street.  She 
curled  and  dyed  feathers  and  subsisted  on 
what  her  friends  brought  her  to  eat.  An- 
other old  lady  came  to  our  house  to  sew 

carpets.    We  called  her  "Miss  and 

she  ate  at  table  with  the  family.  This  old 
lady  brought  with  her  the  gossip  of  the 
time,  to  much  of  which  we  children  were 
not  permitted  to  listen. 

At  the  corner  of  North  Moore  and  Hud- 
son streets  was  a  shop  kept  by  a  Mr.  John 
Atwill.  He  sold  everything  from  thread  and 
[  «  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


needles  up  to  the  richest  "bits,"  literally,  of 
laces  and  satins.  I  think  he  amassed  quite 
a  fortune.  He  was  a  charitable  man,  and 
a  rather  amusing  anecdote  is  told  in  con- 
nection with  one  of  his  good  deeds.  A  clever 
woman,  living  in  the  neighborhood,  who 
was  slightly  sarcastic  and  very  witty,  once 
asked  Mr.  Atwill  for  a  contribution  to  a  cer- 
tain society.  He  gave  it.  Sometime  after, 
the  woman  returned  to  the  store  to  thank 
him  for  his  donation.  "I  hope  you  have 
followed  St.  Paul's  injunction,"  she  said  to 
him,  "to  'lay  up  for  yourself  treasures  in 
heaven  where  moth  and  rust  do  not  cor- 
rupt/ for  in  the  samples  you  were  kind 
enough  to  send  us  from  your  earthly  treas- 
ures, the  moths  are  hard  at  work." 

In  the  days  of  which  I  write,  breakfast 
was  at  eight,  as  now,  but  there  was  no  in- 
dulgence for  tardy  ones,  and  we  had  to  for- 
feit sixpence  for  the  poor  box  each  time  we 
were  late  for  the  family  morning  prayers. 
Dinner  was  served  from  five  to  six  o'clock, 
and  after  dessert  the  cloth  would  be  re- 
[  13  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


moved  and  nuts  with  Madeira  and  port 
wines  would  be  placed  on  the  highly  pol- 
ished mahogany  table.  Those  were  the 
days  when  servants  lived  almost  as  of  the 
family,  and  they  used  much  " elbow  grease" 
in  their  work.  No  modern  invention  for  pol- 
ishing and  cleaning  has  ever  been  found  to 
excel  this  old-time  recipe  which  made  those 
tables  shine.  Formal  dinners  were  few  and 
portentous  occasions.  About  eight  o'clock 
each  evening  the  old  colored  butler  would 
bring  in  the  tea  tray  with  its  delicate 
bread  and  butter,  its  home-made  cakes,  and 
other  dainties.  "Whigs"  was  a  favorite 
tea  biscuit  at  one  time,  eaten  hot  with  but- 
ter. This  got  its  name  from  the  political 
party  of  the  time. 

Young  girls  did  not  go  to  the  theater  as 
they  do  nowadays.  Three  or  four  times  a 
year,  perhaps,  was  all  that  was  allowed  to 
them  in  that  line.  Amusements,  otherwise, 
were  of  the  simplest  kind;  a  home  life  with 
one's  own  family  was  then  the  common 
custom. 

[  19  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


Once  in  a  while  a  friend  would  call  in  the 
evening  and  pass  an  hour  or  two  in  talk, 
while  the  ladies  of  the  house  plied  their 
needles.  I  remember  two  old  ladies,  how- 
ever, who  used  somewhat  more  ceremony 
than  this  towards  their  guests.  They  al- 
ways kept  a  pair  of  gloves  in  their  work 
baskets,  and  no  matter  how  plainly  they 
were  dressed,  if  they  heard  the  door  bell 
ring  and  a  visitor  announced,  they  would 
instantly  take  their  gloves  out  of  their  bas- 
kets and  put  them  on.  This  was  apparently 
their  idea  of  being  in  proper  costume  to 
receive  a  visitor. 

Sundays,  I  admit,  were  rather  long. 
Twice  to  St.  John's  Church  for  service;  a 
stroll  after  morning  service  by  some  of  the 
young  people  (Hudson  Street  was  the  Fifth 
Avenue  of  that  time);  once  to  Sunday 
school;  and  the  Catechism  at  home  in  the 
evening  —  that  was  our  program.  While 
my  mother  read  to  us  and  tried  to  drill  into 
our  heads  the  fearful  answers  to  some  of 
the  questions  which  she  asked  us  at  these 
[  20  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


evening  sessions,  how  we  did  listen  and 
pray  for  the  door  bell  to  ring.  That  meant 
friends  and  freedom. 

At  last  the  time  came  and  I  made  my 
entree  into  society.  Then  my  father  would 
have  one  of  the  servants  gather  for  me  the 
fairest  flowers  in  our  greenhouses  to  trim 
my  ball  dresses.  It  was  a  fancy  of  his  own. 
One  night  it  would  be  japonicas,  another 
roses,  another  something  else,  but  always 
fresh  flowers  would  be  sewed  by  my  maid 
in  profusion  upon  my  gown  for  each  dance 
that  I  attended. 

New  Year's  Day  was  observed  when  I 
was  a  young  girl,  and  what  a  pleasant  day 
it  was!  The  ladies  who  " received  visitors' ' 
were  dressed  in  their  best  and  were  compli- 
mented and  wished  "Many  happy  returns 
of  the  day"  by  the  gentlemen  who  "made 
calls"  and  who,  like  the  ladies,  were  attired 
in  evening  costume,  wearing  dress  suits 
with  white  gloves.  The  tables  were  spread 
on  these  occasions  with  viands  to  tempt  the 
appetite.    Many  a  health  was  drunk  and 

[  »  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


many  a  feud  wag  buried  that  day  in  a  glass 
of  wine.  What  a  difference  now!  Every- 
body goes  out  of  town  on  New  Year's  Day, 
and  the  city  is  like  a  deserted  village. 

On  St.  Valentine's  Day  young  men  would 
go  through  the  streets,  their  servants  be- 
hind them,  carrying  baskets  heaped  with 
valentines.  These  offerings  they  would 
leave  at  the  doors  of  their  chosen  fair 
ones. 

The  stores  of  Schaus  and  Goupil  were 
down  town;  Tiffany's  was  near  Spring 
Street;  and  Ball  and  Black's  not  far  from 
there.  A.  T.  Stewart's  great  store  was  at 
the  corner  of  Chambers  Street  and  Broad- 
way; Arnold's  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
shopping  district  in  Canal  Street;  and  Ait- 
ken  and  Miller's  a  few  blocks  above  that 
street  on  Broadway.  Canal  Street,  in  those 
days,  was  like  Twenty-third  Street  to-day. 
Ridley's  and  Wild's  were  the  candy  stores 
then — very  nearly  like  Huyler's.  Delmon- 
ico's  was  at  the  corner  of  Fourteenth  Street 
and  Fifth  Avenue,  and  Taylor's  Saloon 

[  22  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


was  down  town.  Where  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel  stood  was  a  Hippodrome. 

Just  before  I  was  married  I  paid  a  visit 
to  Madame  Jumel's  place  on  the  Blooming- 
dale  Road  and  saw  the  eccentric  old  lady 
herself.  Her  attire  was  not  of  the  neatest. 
A  dirty  yellow  cameFs-hair  shawl  was  her 
chief  ornament,  and  she  was  surrounded  by 
cats.  She  talked  of  her  adventures  and 
boasted  of  her  triumphs.  I  wore  a  very 
pretty  gray  costume,  I  remember,  which 
Madame  did  me  the  honor  to  admire,  ob- 
serving, "My  dear,  I  wore  gray  the  day  I 
made  my  greatest  conquest. " 

I  was  shown  through  the  house  by  a  Mr. 
Chase,  a  lawyer,  married  to  a  cousin  of 
Madame's.  I  saw  many  curious  and  some 
beautiful  things.  I  saw  the  Washington 
room;  the  combined  silver  service  for  choc- 
olate, tea,  and  coffee,  which  was  brought 
out  to  this  country  by  General  Jumel;  the 
celebrated  portrait  of  Madame  Jumel  in  her 
youth,  and,  in  the  hall,  the  large  and  mys- 
terious picture  of  Madame  seated  with  a 
[  23  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


youthful  figure  by  her  side  with  his  face 
gone.  I  was  told  that  the  picture  had 
been  cut  by  Madame  herself  in  a  fit  of  rage 
against  the  original,  some  relative,  who  had 
displeased  her.  The  most  singular  thing  in 
this  strange  house  was  shown  me  last  —  a 
dining  room  and  a  dinner  table.  The  table 
was  covered  with  a  yellow  dinner  cloth, 
dingy  and  dim  from  age,  and  it  held  still  the 
remnants  of  a  feast  given  long  years  ago. 
The  stale  crumbs,  the  dishes  in  disorder, 
the  empty  wine  glasses  all  were  standing 
there  as  they  had  stood,  I  was  told,  since 
Madame  Jumel  had  given  a  dinner  to  Louis 
Napoleon,  then  a  tutor  of  French  in  this 
country.  Madame  would  never  allow  any- 
thing to  be  touched,  and  it  gave  me  a 
strange  feeling  to  see  those  reminders  of 
that  dead  and  gone  distinction.  I  thought 
of  Miss  Haversham  in  "  Great  Expecta- 
tions,^ waiting,  in  her  wedding  gown,  by 
her  untouched  wedding  breakfast,  for  the 
lover  who  would  never  again  meet  her  eyes. 
Earlier  than  this  visit,  I  remember  two 

[  24  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


great  social  events.  One  was  the  Prince  of 
Wales  Ball  at  the  Academy,  when  the  floor- 
ing gave  way  and  many  were  precipitated 
into  the  parquette,  though  fortunately  no- 
body was  killed.  The  other  event  was  more 
private  —  a  reception  given  by  Mr.  Bel- 
mont to  the  Japanese  Ambassadors,  whose 
presence  in  this  country  was  chiefly  due  to 
the  exertions  of  Commander  Perry,  Mrs. 
Belmont's  father.  The  Embassy  was  com- 
posed of  men  of  high  rank,  and  they  ate 
apart;  but  I  wras  one  of  the  few  who  were 
given  a  peep  at  the  strangers  while  they  sat 
at  table. 

Those  days  in  Laight  Street  were  the  days 
of  carriages  with  high  hammer-cloth  seat 
and  a  stand  at  back  with  cords  for  the  foot- 
men. I  remember,  when  I  was  quite  a  girl, 
a  neighbor  of  ours  whose  carriage  was  up- 
holstered in  gorgeous  yellow,  her  livery 
being  light  gray  faced  with  black  velvet. 
The  aunt  of  another  lady,  now  living  in 
New  York,  both  of  whom  are  "old  New 
Yorkers/'  could  be  seen  until  very  recently 
[  25  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS 


riding  almost  daily  in  an  old  carriage  with 
its  stand  for  footmen  and  driven  by  a 
colored  coachman  as  venerable  as  the  car- 
riage itself. 

Old  customs  and  old  costumes  survive 
long  after  the  general  public  believe  them 
dead  and  buried.  I  remember,  for  instance, 
another  lady,  well  known  in  New  York, 
who  always  wore  on  state  occasions,  till 
the  day  of  her  death,  which  occurred  not 
long  ago,  a  turban  which  reminded  me  of 
pictures  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu. 


[  26  ] 


II 


II 


In  1861  the  Civil  War  broke  out.  What 
a  time  it  was!  Mothers,  fathers,  wives, 
sweethearts  all  watched  with  fear  the  course 
of  events.  Regiments  were  being  raised, 
and  boys  as  well  as  mature  men  were  rushed 
to  the  front.  Instead  of  going  to  church,  I 
would  watch  the  regiments  march  through 
Canal  Street  —  the  tears,  the  handshakes, 
and  the  partings,  some  of  them  forever. 
The  day  the  Seventh  left  for  the  seat  of 
war  was  like  a  holiday.  All  work  was  sus- 
pended, and  as  the  troops  marched  down 
Broadway,  with  their  chaplain,  Dr.  Weston, 
at  their  head,  many  a  prayer  was  uttered, 
many  a  tear  was  shed. 

How  all  New  York  worked  for  the  sol- 
diers!   Devoted  men  and  women  gave  up 
theii  time  and  even  their  lives  to  soothe 
and  comfort  the  wounded  and  dying.  The 
[  29  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


girls  gave  parties  to  scrape  lint  and  knit 
stockings  for  use  in  the  hospitals. 

It  was  just  at  this  time  that  I  went  on 
my  wedding  trip  to  Washington.  The  city 
was  on  a  war  footing,  and  everything  was 
under  martial  law.  We  were  obliged  to 
obtain  a  passport  to  visit  a  certain  fort  on 
the  outskirts  of  Washington.  We  took  a 
carriage,  but  on  arriving  at  a  bridge  the 
sentinel  would  not  let  us  over,  there  being 
nothing  said  about  a  conveyance  in  the  pass. 
The  commander,  however,  changed  the 
wording  of  our  pass  and  allowed  the  ve- 
hicle with  us  in  it  to  cross.  "A  judge  and 
his  lady  cannot  go  on  foot,"  he  said  politely. 

I  went  to  the  Georgetown  nunnery,  also 
to  the  monastery.  The  nuns  had  no  idea 
of  what  was  going  on  in  the  outside  world. 
They  did  not  know  that  the  rout  at  Bull 
Run  had  taken  place  and  that  the  road  had 
been  strewn  with  dead  and  dying  stragglers. 
In  the  monastery  I  was  shown  the  famous 
Holy  Spirit  flower,  an  orchid  with  its  petals 
forming  a  dove.  I  passed  one  night  in 
[  30  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


Baltimore,  where  there  were  regiments 
about,  armed  men  coming  and  going,  and 
every  instant  an  attack  or  an  outbreak  of 
some  kind  expected. 

Then  came  the  Draft  Riots  in  New  York. 
No  lights  were  used  in  the  houses.  I  sat 
in  my  home  (in  Twenty-third  Street)  by 
my  closed  window  blinds,  not  knowing  what 
might  happen  from  moment  to  moment,  and 
watched  the  men  go  by,  tall,  strong,  mus- 
cular, in  shirt  sleeves,  with  clubs  in  their 
hands  or  guns  on  their  shoulders. 

I  attended  one  performance  at  the  Winter 
Garden,  when  "  Julius  Csesar"  was  the 
play,  and  the  principal  parts  were  taken  by 
the  three  brothers  Booth  —  Edwin,  Wilkes, 
and  Junius.  Edwin  was  Brutus,  Junius 
was  Cassius,  and  Wilkes  Booth  was  Marc 
Antony.  Just  after  the  oration  over 
Caesar's  dead  body,  there  was  an  alarm  of 
fire.  The  curtain  was  drawn,  the  house 
rose  en  masse,  and  only  Edwin  Booth's 
presence  of  mind  prevented  a  panic.  Mr. 
William  Ricketts,  who  of  late  years  has 
[  31  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


been  crier  of  one  of  the  courts  in  the  City 
Hall,  was  one  of  the  ushers  on  that  occa- 
sion. He  told  me  it  was  said  that  on  that 
night  an  attempt  was  made  to  fire  all  the 
theaters  in  the  city,  but  watchers  and 
engines  were  on  hand,  and  so  no  damage 
was  done. 

A  purely  personal  recollection  of  the  war 
is  of  a  german  that  I  danced  with  young 
Colonel  Shaw,  to  whom  there  has  since 
been  erected  the  touching  memorial  at 
Beacon  Hill,  Boston.  Soon  after  our  dance 
Colonel  Shaw  went  South,  took  command 
of  the  First  Colored  Regiment  raised, 
fought,  died,  and  was  buried,  as  his  me- 
morial records. 

The  ladies  of  New  York,  as  I  have  said, 
were  untiring  in  their  efforts  to  relieve  the 
sufferings  of  the  soldiers.  Even  an  im- 
promptu hospital  was  at  one  time  arranged 
by  them  in  the  City  Hall  Park.  The  first 
Mrs.  S.  L.  M.  Barlow  was  one  who  devoted 
most  of  her  time  to  this  and  like  work. 
Many  now  living  in  New  York  must  re- 
[  32  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


member  the  great  Sanitary  Fair  which  was 
held  in  Union  Square  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Sanitary  Commission.  This  was  the  largest 
fair  held  at  the  time,  but  there  were  others 
very  large,  notably  one  in  the  then  uncom- 
pleted store  owned  by  A.  T.  Stewart  at 
Tenth  Street  and  Broadway,  now  Wana- 
maker's. 

New  York  celebrated  the  taking  of  Rich- 
mond and  the  nation's  other  great  victories 
by  a  great  procession  of  soldiers  and  civil- 
ians; but  following  immediately  upon  these 
rejoicings  came  Lincoln's  assassination.  The 
stores  were  all  closed  on  the  day  Abraham 
Lincoln's  body  was  carried  in  solemn  state 
through  the  city,  and  as  the  mournful  train 
marched  through  Broadway,  prayers  were 
heard  sobbed  out  for  our  first  martyred 
President.  The  city,  draped  in  black,  had 
known  its  saddest  Good  Friday.  General 
Grant,  thereafter,  became  the  greatest  liv- 
ing hero  of  the  nation,  and  for  years  many 
honors  were  bestowed  upon  him  through- 
out the  world. 

[  33  ] 


Ill 


Ill 


When  the  old  "Home  Journal"  was  in  its 
prime,  the  leading  society  journal  in  New 
York  (as  "Town  and  Country/ '  its  succes- 
sor, is  to-day),  I  used  frequently  to  see  N. 
P.  Willis,  its  editor;  and  on  one  occasion 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Edgar  Allan  Poe 
at  Fordham,  seated  on  the  piazza  of  his 
house,  which  is  now  in  the  Bronx  Park  and 
the  Mecca  of  Poe's  admirers. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  many 
clever  men  of  that  time  and  during  the  Re- 
construction Period  after  the  Civil  War. 
There  was  Arthur  Gilman,  with  his  famous 
lecture  on  "The  Puritan  Fathers."  It  was 
apropos  of  this  lecture  someone  asked  Mr. 
Gilman,  "Why,  when  there  was  so  much 
talk  about  the  Puritan  Fathers,  no  one 
ever  said  anything  about  the  Puritan 
Mothers?" 

[  3T  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


A  celebrated  man  whom  I  knew  well  was 
my  husband's  brother,  James  T.  Brady, 
the  great  criminal  lawyer  of  his  day,  a  man 
even  now  remembered  in  this  age  of  quick 
forgetfulness.  I  recall  a  little  story  of  his 
social  wit.  Once,  while  he  was  dining  at  a 
lady's  house,  there  was  a  tremendous  crash 
in  the  pantry.  The  hostess  sat  placidly 
unmoved.  Whereupon  Mr.  Brady  smilingly 
quoted,  "  Mistress  of  herself,  though  China 
fall." 

Clarence  Seward,  "the  Knight  of  the 
Golden  Locks,"  the  Lohengrin  of  the  bar; 
General  Sickles,  fine  soldier,  honest  states- 
man, true  friend;  Daniel  Dougherty,  "the 
silver-tongued  orator";  Joaquin  Miller, 
"the  Poet  of  the  Sierras,"  who  at  my  table 
once  asked  for  coffee,  and  putting  in  brandy 
set  it  on  fire,  "To  make  a  little  hell  of  his 
own,"  he  told  us;  and  Bret  Harte,  who, 
dining  with  us  on  another  occasion,  re- 
marked that  he  had  "at  last  moved  into 
very  respectable  quarters,"  for  on  his  re- 
turn home  one  evening  his  little  girl  had 
[  38  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


run  out  to  meet  him,  crying,  "Oh,  papa! 
How  nice  it  is  to  live  here!  I  have  n't 
heard  a  little  boy  say  'damn'  once!"  Gov- 
ernor Tilden,  who  was  only  prevented  by 
one  vote  from  becoming  President  of  the 
United  States;  Oakey  Hall;  Judge  Daly, 
president  of  the  Geographical  Society  for 
many  years;  A.  A.  Hayes;  Mr.  Hay,  who 
became  Secretary  of  State;  Mr.  Du  Chaillu; 
Mr.  Stoddard;  Mr.  Stedman  —  all  these 
have  been  my  guests,  with  others,  some  liv- 
ing, some  passed  over  to  the  great  majority. 

Many  dinners  have  I  attended  at  which 
famous  people  of  that  time  were  guests. 
One  was  a  very  beautiful  affair  given  by 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  Fish  to  General 
and  Mrs.  Grant  on  their  return  from  their 
trip  around  the  world;  one  to  Lord  Dufferin 

by  Sir  Archibald   ,  then  the  British 

Minister  to  this  country;  another  to  Arch- 
bishop McClosky  by  Mr.  Devlin;  still  an- 
other to  General  Sherman  by  General  and 
Mrs.  Butterfield.  One  of  the  earliest  din- 
ners of  my  own  giving  was  to  Commodore 
[  39  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


and  Mrs.  Worden  —  the  Commodore,  of 
course,  who  was  the  hero  of  the  "Monitor" 
and  "Merrimac."  I  attended  the  large 
banquet  given  to  James  Girard  on  his  re- 
tirement from  the  bar,  and  listened  there 
to  the  last  public  speech  of  James  T.  Brady. 
There  used  to  be  dinners  given  by  the 
Brothers-in-Law,  a  club  of  lawyers,  who 
always  invited  ladies  to  their  entertain- 
ments. Ladies  were  also  invited  to  the  St. 
Patrick's  Day  dinners  to  hear  the  speeches. 

Among  the  literary  clubs  of  short  exist- 
ence was  the  Pot  Luck  Club.  Its  peculiar- 
ity was  that  every  member  of  the  club  was 
required  to  cook  some  dish  at  their  meet- 
ings, and  these  dishes  became  the  menu  of 
the  evening.  The  Sorosis  in  those  days  gave 
entertainments  to  which  both  ladies  and 
gentlemen  were  bidden.  One  very  pleasant 
breakfast  stands  out  in  my  memory,  given 
by  General  Sickles  to  the  Comte  de  Paris. 

Among  notable  events  I  remember  the 
opening  night  of  Booth's  theater,  when 
Booth  played  Romeo  to  Miss  McVicar's 

[  40  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


Juliet.  How  proud  he  was  of  her  that  night 
and  how  superbly  the  scenery  was  gotten 
up  —  finer  than  anything  ever  produced  by 
Irving.  This  opening  was  a  grand  occasion 
and  only  invited  guests  filled  the  house.  I 
was  in  a  box,  and  when  Booth  himself  en- 
tered to  pay  us  a  visit  between  the  acts,  we 
all  began  to  praise  him  and  his  work.  "A 
truce  to  that,"  he  said.  "What  do  you 
think  of  the  little  lady?" 

I  have  seen  Forrest's  Richelieu  (and  a 
magnificent  piece  of  acting  it  was),  and 
when  a  child  I  saw  Charlotte  Cushman  and 
remember  her  singing  at  the  piano  in  our 
home;  then  again  her  Romeo,  Meg  Merrilies, 
and,  just  before  her  death,  her  Lady  Mac- 
beth. Many  a  happy  hour  have  I  passed 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barney  Williams. 
Mr.  Booth,  too,  I  came  to  know  quite  well; 
also  Lester  Wallack,  Harry  Edwards,  Mon- 
tague, and  others.  One  clever  man,  not  an 
actor  but  a  litterateur,  was  Stephen  Mas- 
sett,  who  used  to  recite  delightfully  many 
poems  that  he  wrote  himself  under  the  nom 
[  41  ] 


QUAINT  CUSTOMS  OF 


de  plume  of  "  Jeems  Pipes. "  Edwin  Adams 
and  Rose  Eytinge  were  the  best  Claude 
Melnotte  and  Pauline  who  ever  stood  upon 
our  stage.  I  saw  them  and  I  saw  Mrs. 
Russell,  Mrs.  John  Hoey,  in  old  Burton's 
Theater  in  Chambers  Street  opposite  the 
Tombs.  Much  later  I  was  present  at  the 
One  Hundredth  Night  Celebration  of  "The 
Shaughran,"  when  my  husband  presented 
a  statue  of  Con,  the  Shaughran,  to  Mr. 
Dion  Boucicault.  This  took  place  at 
Wallack's,  which  was  then  at  Thirteenth 
Street  and  Broadway. 

With  Dan  Bryant,  best  of  all  the  negro 
minstrels,  minstrelsy  as  a  fine  art  seemed  to 
die.  At  his  funeral  all  New  York  turned 
out  to  see  him  carried  to  his  last  resting 
place.  Dr.  Frothingham  delivered  an  ad- 
dress to  his  memory,  and  in  his  speech  re- 
marked: "Of  Malibran  they  said,  'The 
angels  wanted  her  to  sing  with  them  and 
took  her  to  themselves/  The  like  we  may 
say  of  Bryant." 

The  ballet  in  those  days  was  not  as  com- 

[  42  ] 


FORMER  NEW  YORKERS 


mon  a  thing  as  it  is  to-day.  An  old  country 
woman  was  taken  by  some  city  friends  to 
see  "The  Black  Crook/'  then  the  sensation 
of  the  hour.  "Why,  girls/ '  the  old  lady 
cried,  "come  away!  Those  girls  up  there 
ain't  dressed  enough  to  go  to  bed." 

Perhaps  the  most  exciting  and  dramatic 
incident  of  any  that  I  recall  occurred  on 
the  night  of  Garfield's  death.  My  husband 
and  I  sat  in  the  library,  listening  to  the  ex- 
tras that  were  being  shouted  on  the  streets. 
1 '  Garfield  dying !  Garfield  dying ! ' '  the  boys 
were  still  shouting,  when  a  carriage  drove 
hastily  up  to  our  door  and  the  bell  pealed. 
It  was  about  midnight,  so  the  judge  went 
himself  to  open  the  door.  I  heard  men's 
voices  in  the  hall;  then  my  husband  came 
upstairs.  "Garfield  is  dead!  They  have 
sent  for  me  to  administer  the  oath  of 
office  to  Arthur."  He  left  me,  and  a 
moment  later  the  carriage  went  again  fu- 
riously through  the  night.  It  was  neces- 
sary there  should  be  no  delay.  The  United 
States  must  not  be  without  a  President. 
[  43  ] 


4 


